


Craving a Good Con

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And a Protective Boyfriend, Castiel is a badass, Cute Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Gets Flustered Easy, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Flirty Waiter, Fluff and Humor, Good Cop Bad Cop, Humor, M/M, Restaurants, Sexual Humor, Waiters & Waitresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 15:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13954677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Dean props his hand beneath his chin and supplies Ollie with the dopiest grin imaginable. “I know, it’s just… tsk, it’s so much. I don’t know if I’d be able to take it all.”“I doubt that,” Ollie quips, eyes dropping as low as they can with the table in the way. Cas squints, sending the waiter into a brief coughing fit. “Acgh—agh, I’m… sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”





	Craving a Good Con

**Author's Note:**

> So this was inspired by that time Jared joked (we think anyway... who knows, it IS Jared) about Stephen Amell wanting to play a waiter if and when he comes onto Supernatural because "Dean always hooks up with the waiters".

“Your server, Ollie, will be out shortly.”

“Thank you,” the couple in the booth says in tandem. They then turn their attention to the single panel menu in their hands. Not only is everything on one page, but it’s all italicized in a cursive font that may as well be a dead language—even for Cas.

Dean whistles low, “We’re flying pretty close to the sun here, Icarus. You think we can pull it off?”

“Dean, we stopped the apocalypse. I think we can pull off a food heist.”

“Not to mention, I saved the kingdom of Moondoor.”

“What?”

Dean shakes his head and resumes scanning the menu, “Nothing. Not—nope.”

“Very convincing performance for someone running a con,” Cas remarks, smirking. Dean blushes.

“I’ll show you the pictures later,” Dean promises. Then, trying to coolly take a sip from one of the preset waters on the table, he adds: “And if we do well tonight, I’ll even take it out of my closet later.”

“You did have it hidden pretty well in there. Unlike your bisexuality.”

Dean chokes and holds up an accusing finger, but not without a lamely suppressed grin. “Hey now.”

Cas chuckles in response.

“I still can’t believe it, this… _us_ …” Dean gestures between them. “It’s all still new. But then I guess it isn’t. You know?”

“I do.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” Cas affirms, smile softening. “We’ve been together almost a decade—which, to you, is practically millennia. The only thing that’s really changed is our level of intimacy. Like the hand-holding. And the kissing.”

“I dig the kissing.”

“I can tell,” Cas laughs. “You seem to fancy my tongue.”

“And other parts of you,” Dean replies, eyebrows bouncing like a trampoline.

It’s Cas’s turn to blush, recalling last week when Dean’s lips sailed across his chest like a fisher boat on a calm, red sea: careful but patient, using his tongue as his rod every so often to stir Cas’s waters—

“Hello gentlemen,” a new man greets before their table, stirring Cas’s waters in a very _different_ way. “My name is Ollie; I’ll be your server today. What drinks can I start you off with?”

“I’m good with my water, thank you,” Cas replies.

“I’ll take a Kilt Lifter,” Dean follows suit—an ironic statement considering how flat he says it. Cas smiles. Whether he takes them to Biggerson’s or a restaurant that serves lemon sorbet to wash down the most exotic of meats, Dean’s palette will never change.

“I bet you’ve lifted some kilts.”

Cas’s smile slips quicker than the perspiration from his water glass.

“Sure, I guess… is that a Charleston Cheese Dip under the appetizers?”

Ollie, whose name sounds more like _oily,_ slips on the greasiest smile leaning into Dean to see the menu. “That’s actually one of _my_ favorites, too. It’s pretty amazing. It’s a blend of locally sourced cheddar and Monterey Jack cheese, combined with mayo and cream cheese, topped with bacon and a hint of—”

“I think he can read the menu, _thank you_ ,” Cas interrupts, glaring at Ollie. No wonder he’s donning a silver tie over a black, freshly-pressed long-sleeve that’s a size too small—not only does it match his eyes, but the nature of his tongue.

Ollie doesn’t even seem to give Cas two seconds. He just swivels back to Dean with a jawline that, if it wasn’t littered with little brown hairs, could probably cut through the steak Cas is considering ordering. “So, what’re you thinking? Do you wanna start with the dip?”

“Mmm, I dunno…”

“C’mon,” Ollie persists, lifting a thick brow, “a handsome guy like you deserves to be filled to his cheesiest content.”

Dean props his hand beneath his chin and supplies Ollie with the dopiest grin imaginable. “I know, it’s just… tsk, it’s so much. I don’t know if I’d be able to take it all.”

“I doubt that,” Ollie quips, eyes dropping as low as they can with the table in the way. Cas squints, sending the waiter into a brief coughing fit. “Acgh—agh, I’m… sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

_I don’t know either, but it’s sure as hell not **my** boyfriend._

For the first time since he’s been standing here, Ollie fully acknowledges Cas. He turns to him, his face suddenly ashen. **“** I, um… I’ll be right out with that cheese platter,” he states before scurrying off.

Dean drops his head to look at Cas through heavily-lashed and half-heartedly critical dark greens—the kind of look Cas gave Jack when he teleported for the first time… into Dean’s shower. “I had it under control.”

“I know,” Cas responds, shrugging as a grin tugs at his face.

“He kinda looks like someone, don’t you think?”

“He just looks like a moldy toe to me.”

“Stephen Amell.”

“What?”

“Stephen Amell,” Dean says like it’s completely obvious, “ _Arrow?_ Cas, you’ve spent too much time on chicks in prison. What, now you’re watching _Wentworth?”_

“It’s a compelling genre, and women are vastly underrepresented in mainstream media,” he argues. “Not to mention underestimated. The things that can be turned into weapons…”

Dean rolls his eyes. “He _is_ a dick,” he adds. “And he smells like an island. But did he really deserve that Vulcan mind meld?”

“Yes,” Cas states without hesitation, “yes he did.”

“You probably scarred him for life.”

“I’m sure rejection from you will do the real scarring.”

Dean ducks his head. Cas can tell his face is turning red again. When he surfaces again, his freckles are so stand-out, they can make up for any absence of stars in the sky. This is probably Cas’s favorite part of dating Dean: Actively playing the role of Bad Cop and still managing to fluster the Good Cop in the process.

And if he’s being honest, Cas has his own secret agenda behind the roleplay, because not only does Dean deserve the best food in his stomach, but every butterfly from every botanical garden in the world.

“The cheese platter for the gentleman,” Ollie announces when he returns, setting the steaming bowl on the table with slightly shaking hands, followed by Dean’s beer. He barely casts a glance at Cas—this time out of fear. “Uhm, and his partner. On the house. Have you guys decided on, um… on, uh…”

“Food?” Cas finishes, shit-eating grin and all.

“Yeah, that,” Ollie responds, laughing nervously.

“Hey, um… Olive, is it?”

“Ollie, but—” The waiter casts a riskier glance at Cas, who squints enough for him to whip his head back to Dean, “Y-yeah, what’s up?”

“Just so you know,” Dean continues, leaning in close as if to tell him a secret, “You’re _so_ not getting a tip.”

**Author's Note:**

> You KNOW Dean asked for a to-go box for that cheese so he and Cas could do stuff with it later. (((; (I really wanted to add that in, but the ending was too good so here it is.)


End file.
